The Thing About Being Normal
by blushed-at-a-mere-nothing
Summary: Gabe is lonely. Maggie is new. What will happen to them? Jeez, I suck at summaries. Rating for mild language and future situations... Gabe/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I wanted to try something new. I own nothing, except my characters, of course.**

**Gabe's POV**

Taking a deep breath, I stared at the person sitting on the bench at the park, and I willed myself to be seen. I walked up to the person and started talking, but the man made no reply. I shoved his arm, and he barely moved. He didn't look up; he just kept reading the newspaper. Dammit! There's one more attempt that failed.

Every day for the past ten years, I've been going to this park and tried to find someone who could see me. I've waltzed into psychic's shops, I've been to churches, mosques, and temples, and I've even been to the psych ward at the hospital. Nothing. No one can see me apart from Diana. But she's been gone for months. So have Natalie, Dan, and Henry. They've moved out of the house and left me behind.

"A better, fresher start," I muttered to myself as I flopped on the grass next to the marble fountain. I gazed at the people around me and smiled. They're so lucky. They're not stuck at eighteen. I tugged on the purple material of my t-shirt, a habit I've formed when I'm annoyed.

"Why can't you see me?!" I called out, fully knowing that I would receive no reply. A mother walked past me, baby in arm. She came close enough to walk on top of me, and I lunged out of the way. I guess it has become a habit of mine to react like a normal person. She continued forward, and I relaxed.

This old park is the only place I can go to hang out and at least feel alive. The house is too quiet and empty. I shut my eyes and meditated for a minute, just listening to the sounds of the life around me.

"Gabe! Gabe, look up!" I heard a voice yell behind me. I whipped my head around, hopeful. "Gabe! There you are, you rascal. I can't leave you alone for five minutes." To my idiotically misplaced dismay, it was a babysitter calling to one of the children she was watching. Of course.

I turned my head forward and pinched my arm. Why on Earth are you upset, Gabriel? You should've known she wasn't talking to you. Rolling my eyes, I stood up and strolled in the direction of my home. When you're a ghost, you don't have to be fast for anything.

Passing the little houses, all in uniform rows with the same designs, I pondered different ways to be seen. I need someone to see me; Diana still never really believed that I was alive. Whistling the tune to Singin' in the Rain, I unlocked the door to the house and stepped inside.

"Why haven't people reported a door opening and closing by itself?" I wondered aloud as I shut the door and locked it yet again. The 'For Sale' sign sat in the lawn, still covered in dew from the last rain. I just want someone to buy the dumb place, so I won't be stuck by myself all the time. This house is all I can remember, so I can't just leave. I can't get a job, move with my old family, or stay with a new family. That'd be creepy. But now I'm just that one little ghost kid, hanging out at an abandoned house.

"Welcome home!" I heard a male voice call from behind the front door. Without thinking, I raced from my seat on the couch to the upstairs. I hid out in Natalie's old room and prayed this was all a dream. Unless, of course, we had an Open House while I was gone for whatever reason, and they now own the place…Oh my Christ.

* * *

**Maggie's POV**

"Welcome home!" my father yelled. He was way too excited to be human. It was his bright idea that we should pack up and move to Port Townsend, Washington from Las Vegas, Nevada. Lovely. From one of the largest cities in the United States to one of the smallest towns. I'm an eighteen year old girl, so of course I'm supposed to hate everything my parents do. It's part of the teenage code or whatever, but this time, I have a valid reason for hating them. The area we are in the process of moving to is the epitome of "suburbia".

"Well let's go inside, Marcus! We've been out in the clouds long enough!" My mother scolded my father with a grin. I rolled my eyes. We've moved to the extreme northeastern end of the Olympic Peninsula. Of course it's cloudy. You're going to have to deal with that. Dad opened the little red door and we went through with our first round of miscellaneous bags, boxes, and suitcases. The U-HAUL sat in the little driveway, along with dad's truck and my Prius.

"Ok, Mags, you can pick out your own room. You too, Trev," my mom noted as we made our first trip. Trevor, my fifteen year old brother, grabbed what he could and trudged upstairs. He didn't love the idea of uprooting either.

I followed him and took the room at the top of the stairs and to the right. I pushed open the door and laid my bags on the bed, which was pushed against the wall. I surveyed the room, and could swear I heard…breathing. Shaking off the odd feeling of being watched, I ran back outside to pick up more of my bags from my car. At least I was smart enough to drive separately. Now, why I haven't moved away from my family, I have no idea.

Several hours later, we stopped unpacking and went to the diner to eat. It was within walking distance, just like all the other businesses and points of interest.

Trevor brought up my thoughts at the top of dinner. "Hey, am I the only one who thinks we're being watched?" My parents looked at him like he was nuts.

"Right now?" My dad asked, thoroughly confused.

"No! At the new house, of course," Trev replied, shoving fries into his mouth.

"Oh don't worry about that. It's a normal thought when you move into an older home. It's all in your head."

I finished eating, set some money on the table, and told my family that I wasn't well and needed sleep. I left quickly and ran to our little home. Unlocking the door, I raced inside and finished unpacking my bedroom. Everything was now in place.

If you can't already tell, I'm really annoyed with my family. They don't do anything wrong, but when the little voices in my head start screaming at me, I just need to get as far away as possible. I lay on my bed and took a deep breath.

"Ok, Maggie. Time to breathe," I whispered to myself.

"You're breathing just fine, as far as I can tell," I heard a male voice murmur from the other side of the room. My head snapped up and I locked eyes with a teenage boy, who was sitting at my desk. My eyes grew wider and I screamed.

"I'LL CALL THE COPS! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" I sprung out of bed, flung open the door, and raced downstairs. I felt a hand grab my arm, and I was forced to stop in my tracks. He pushed me against a wall and kept my arms restrained.

"Ok, first, YOUR house? This was MY house first. And second…you see me?" he said, his voice wavering.

I nodded, because that's all I could do.

"What's your name, stranger?" he inquired with a cheeky grin.

"M-Maggie," I stuttered. "Yours? And why do you ask if I could see you?"

"Gabriel Goodman. Gabe. And, uh, I'm dead." Gabe stated the last answer with total nonchalance.

"D-Dead? How is that even possible?! I've always been called crazy, from the doctors and such. But…you're dead. And I can see you," I tried to clarify this as much as possible. All he did was nod, and I finally got a really good look at him. Now that he was forcing me up against a wall, I could look at him fully. Sandy blond hair, big brown eyes, slightly muscular build, jeans, purple t-shirt. Oh yeah, and he was hot. For a ghost, that is.

"Hello? Maggie? I asked you a question." I snapped out of my reverie to notice that he let me go.

"Sorry. What was that?" I felt a slight blush creep on my cheeks, and I forced myself to look away from him.

He smirked, and then spoke again. "I was wondering how old you were."

"Eighteen," I replied mechanically. I'd gotten so used to saying it over and over to distant relatives and pretty much everyone else. It's just a constant reminder that I am a legal adult that's treated as a child.

"I know how you feel." I snapped my head up to look at him.

"Did you just read my mind?" I wondered.

"I'm a ghost, not a psychic. You were talking aloud." God dammit. I hate it when I do that.

"Sorry…wait, do you think the rest of my family can see you?"

He pondered this for a while, and then shrugged. "Can't tell. Probably not, because only special people can see me." He winked.

Rolling my eyes, I trudged back upstairs and into my room. Gabe flopped on my bed and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Right, your house first, sorry," I muttered when he crossed his arms. I sat next to him, and our conversation continued. For an hour, we sat alone, talking about who we were and who we are and what we do. I noticed that he didn't talk a lot about his family or how he died, and I didn't press him for answers. It made me extremely curious. Thanking God that my family was taking their time to explore the town, I really enjoyed Gabe's company. He was really easy to talk to.

"Ok…um…favourite animal," he inquired.

"Tigers. You?"

"Penguins."

"Um...colour?"

"Purple. You?"

"Red." Our conversation drifted mainly to our favourite things. Glancing at the clock, I noticed that it was almost ten o'clock. Almost on cue, I heard the door unlock and the voices of my parents and brother filter up and into my room.

"Crap," I muttered. "Quick! Hide!" I yelled at Gabe. He just stared at me with a raised eyebrow and did nothing. Trevor went into my room (without knocking, of course) and sat in the same spot where Gabe was sitting. My eyes widened a bit, but not enough to be noticed.

"You alright, sis? You missed a really cool mini-museum at the end of the street," he said, laying his back against the wall.

"I-I'm fine, Trev. Can you please just leave? I really would appreciate some quiet." He ruffled my hair and left, and I flattened the wild brown curls that he messed up. My hair was always unruly, but messing it up certainly didn't help anything. Gabe smirked yet again, and I just rolled my eyes.

"I told you," he said, ruffling my hair like Trevor did.

"Argh!" I groaned. "Rule number one. Do not touch my hair." He just stuck his tongue out at me.

When I made sure that everyone was asleep, we continued our rapid-fire questions. At around three in the morning, I felt my eyelids droop.

"I think it's time we put the questions to rest," he said softly. I nodded, and he stood and sat at my desk. "Goodnight, Maggie."

"G'night, Gabe," I mumbled as I lie down and fell asleep. The last thought that passed through the conscious part of my head was:

_Why do I trust him so easily?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Maggie's POV**

The next morning, my eyes snapped open to see Gabe reading one of my books.

"Good morning!" He said cheerily.

"'Morning," I mumbled in reply. I was still tried from last night's interview. I practically dragged myself out of bed and downstairs. Looking around, I realized that I was home alone. On the kitchen table was a note that said my family wanted to hang around Seattle for a day, and that if I wanted, I could catch up with them. Since I'd already been to Seattle, it didn't matter to me, so I just trudged back upstairs.

"Where's everyone?" He inquired.

"Seattle," I sighed as I took out some clothes from my closet. "So we're alone today."

"That sounds fun! How about this, I'll make breakfast, and you do your morning ritual or whatever, and we'll meet downstairs." I nodded at Gabe, and he went downstairs and got things ready. Grabbing my toiletries, I raced into the bathroom and started a shower. I don't know where this random burst of excitement came from, but I think it had to do with the fact that Gabe was here. Smiling to myself, I showered, brushed my teeth, got into my clothing, and raced downstairs.

"You must've had one cold shower to be so up and about today," he noted with a smirk. I just rolled my eyes and sat at the kitchen table.

"So, what's on the menu, Chef Gabriel?" I asked with a wink. My still-dripping hair stuck to my back, but I ignored it as I listened to Gabe talk.

"Céréales avec du lait," he replied shortly.

"What on Earth?" I mumbled in total confusion. He smirked and set a bowl of Cheerio's in front of me.

"Cereal with milk. I said it in French, so I could at least sound like I was a chef." He winked then sat down across from me.

"You speak French. You're a ghost, who speaks French."

He rolled his eyes. "When you're dead, you have plenty of time on your hands to pick up a book."

I just rolled my eyes and ate the breakfast. He's so adorably odd.

* * *

**Gabe's POV**

When Maggie completed her meal, we stalked back upstairs to talk more. Something about her I didn't notice before; she seemed to dance as she walked. I watched her, almost mesmerized.

"What the heck are you doing, Gabe?" she asked. I realized I was just standing at the top of the stairs, not moving. Brushing off her question, I strolled into her room and sat down. To tell the truth, I was a little scared. Not of Maggie, but of screwing something up and scaring her away. The whole tidbit where I was dead didn't really do the trick, so I figured something I did, would.

"So. Just how long have you been dead, Gabe?" She smirked and waited for me to speak.

"Erm…dix-huit années...eighteen years."

She stared at me in astonishment. "Wow…I'd hug you, if I wasn't afraid to fall."

"Why do you say that?" I wondered.

She tried to touch my shoulder, but her hand went straight through. "I guess you can touch me, but I can't touch you." At this, I stood and moved close to her. I wrapped my arms around her, and I gasped.

Maggie gasped as well, and then mumbled, "I can…you can do that?"

"I dunno," I murmured. "All I know is that this is the first time I've ever been hugged."

She held me closer, then spoke again. "Even when you were alive?"

"I only lived for eighteen months. My mother was deemed as crazy, and she never held me. My father barely touched me. But…YOU'RE touching me, so…I don't care."

"Oh my gosh," she whispered as she tightened her grip on me. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Thank you for this, Maggie. I…I've never felt so happy." I shut my eyes blissfully and savored the feeling of her arms around me.

"I'm happy to help you with that." Her voice was thicker but higher in pitch, so I immediately started to worry. Even though it somewhat saddened me to let go of her, I moved back and sat at the desk again. I looked into her eyes and realized they were glistening with tears.

"Oh dammit! Gabe, you idiot! You've gone and made her cry!" I scolded myself. "Maggie, I'm so sorry!"

Grabbing my shoulders, she stopped me in my verbal tracks. "Gabe. Look at me. I'm ok. It's just…I've never seen anyone look as happy as you did right there."

Taking a deep breath, I relaxed. "Oh...I'm sorry for making you cry. I just don't wanna screw this up." My eyes filled with tears. For the first time in a very, very long time, I felt like a child.

"Trust me, you're not screwing anything up," she replied with a small smile. I sighed in relief. Realizing that our bodies were still touching, I went over to her bookcase and busied myself with alphabetizing them. I must've been blushing furiously, for my cheeks felt like they were burning.

"What are you doing?" she questioned after she watched me for a couple of minutes.

"Alphabetizing," I muttered. "It's very calming. I like organizing words. Odd, I know. If you look in the attic, you'll have stack upon stack of finished crossword puzzles. It's almost obsessive."

She just snorted, then exclaimed, "That's crazy!"

And I stopped dead in my tracks. "P-Please, don't say that word."

"What, crazy? Why? What would you prefer? Psycho? Insane? Lunatic-"

I winced, and Maggie caught a peek of what my expression was.

"Oh no…I'm sorry, Gabe."

"No phrase or term in the English language could express my HATRED for those words." When she heard my growl at "hatred", she caught on that I was shaken up and she tried to calm me down.

"C-Can I ask why?" At this, I whipped around at her with pure anger in my eyes.

"Crazy was the first word I'd ever heard when I was alive. I may have died from intestinal complications, but my mother was never allowed to hold me. Because she was crazy, she couldn't be around me! BUT SHE WAS NEVER CRAZY!" I slammed the book I was holding onto the floor, and I was shaking violently. "She was scared! Like everyone else! Like everyone else!"

My angry tears spilled over, and I sat down. I sobbed into my hands, wanting to kill the inventor of mental disorders. I didn't care if it was irrational. I just wanted all of it to go away. I loved my mother, but I hated that I was partly the reason for her mental downfall. It just infuriated me. And I couldn't change a thing.

I felt her arms go around my shoulders, and she spoke softly. "I understand…believe me, I do. You poor thing; no one should have to suffer the way you do. Carrying the burdens of your mother's like that."

I found myself crying harder at her touch. "Y-You have to believe me! She was only scared! Only scared!"

"I know, I know," she cooed. She pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I felt myself calm down slowly.

"You believe me?" I asked softly.

She smiled and nodded. I wiped my tears off with my shirt and took a deep breath. "Thank you. I'm sorry 'bout your book." I pushed myself up and I picked it up. I set it in the proper spot and leaned against the bookcase. The weight of my grief was lifted by a few pounds, and I looked over to see Maggie sitting there, waiting patiently.

"I'm sorry about that horrifying display of emotion, too."

Maggie shook her head. "You needed it. And now I know how to be careful around you and what you're thinking. You're a very special person, Gabe." She stood up and wrapped her arms around my waist. I set my head on top of hers, and for the first time in a long time, I was content.


	3. Chapter 3

**Maggie's POV**

To tell the truth, I was terrified for Gabe. I put my arms around his waist, and he set his head on top of mine.

"Hey, Maggie?"

I broke our embrace and looked up at him. His eyes reminded me of dark chocolate, and I practically melted at them.

"Y-Yes?" I mumbled. He touched my cheek and leaned down. Our faces were inches apart, and I found myself praying that he'd kiss me.

"You're so…kind to me." And he broke the space between us. Our lips met, and my heart beat went out of control. I didn't want to ask how this was possible, and I didn't want to wonder why this was happening. All I knew was that I was being kissed by someone I may or may not have met only a day ago and may or may not be in love with already.

He broke the kiss, and I just stood there in a haze.

"I feel…alive," he whispered.

"And I feel like I've finally started living," I noted breathlessly. Shaking my head, I caught my breath and sat on the bed. Following my example, Gabe sat next to me.

"Wait a moment…we met yesterday. And we've kissed now. What the heck is going on?" I asked.

Gabe shrugged. "I suppose we have a really good connection." He flashed his adorable smirk at me, and I laughed. Is it sad that my first kiss was with a dead teenager?

"Wow. That was something else."

He grinned. "So, Mags, now that we've got that out of the way, what should we do for the rest of the day?"

"Are you kidding? We just KISSED, and you're asking me what we should do? I'm still trying to process the last five minutes!" I said with a smile.

"Well, it was what it was. Amazing, astounding, and quite fun. But we have today to ourselves, why don't we do something?" This boy must have the attention span of a squirrel.

"Ok then. What is there to do?"

"Well, we could hunt whales, invent the time machine, re-write the Theory of Relativity, or summon Satan. Or, of course, there's always the option of going to see The Phantom of the Opera performed in town. I like the Satan option, though," he answered.

"Oh yes, I'm sure that'd be a real hoot... says the boy who probably wouldn't be affected by it anyway! Phantom sounds perfect." The two of us headed out to the car and left for the city.

We reached the theater, and Gabe turned to me. "Well, we survived the drive."

"Are you suggesting I'm a bad driver?" I asked, amused.

"Yes. That was the first time I'd ever been that terrified in a vehicle. Even though you're only one for three in the Bad Driving Trifecta, it was sheer terror. Please, never drive again. I beg of you!" He pantomimed begging on his knees, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Well we can't exactly let YOU drive home... unless you want to attract a lot of unwanted attention!" I countered with a smirk.

"True, though we could've walked. Speaking of unwanted attention..." He turned and looked pointedly at a group of people, who were staring at me and muttering.

I cussed under my breath and turned to them with a smile. "Sorry... I'm an actress! We have to be off-book by tomorrow!" They just nodded in understanding and went back to a map they were discussing.

Gabe moved closer to me and whispered, "Sorry. Good thinking, though. They bought it well."

"Do I get my Golden Globe now or later?" I whispered back.

"I'll see what I can do." He smirked, and we turned to the theater entrance.

"Now... how am I going to buy two tickets with only one person entering?" I mumbled.

Gabe looked at me like I said that two plus two equaled seven. "Just buy one ticket. I'll meet you inside." He then strolled through the shut theater doors as if they didn't exist.

"Oh DUH…" I sighed at my slow moment, bought my ticket, and searched around for Gabe. I met him near the middle of the House.

"I hope you got an aisle seat, because that's where I'll be," He stated as we reunited.

"Certainly looks like it," I said as I checked my ticket. "So you're just going to sit on the floor then?"

Gabe nodded. "Yup! I'll be able to see just fine; I've done it plenty of times."

"Really?" I asked, now very curious. "At least that's one perk to being a ghost... you can sneak in places all you want."

"Exactly. I've snuck in to see lots of things."

"Like what?" I sat in my seat, and leaned over to listen.

"Well let's see…My Chemical Romance concert, Michael Bublé concert, West Side Story, Wicked, and Singin' in the Rain," he stated simply.

"Oh, that's it, huh?" I asked sarcastically.

"No, but that's all I can really remember."

"Being a ghost doesn't give you super memories powers? I'm disappointed, Gabe." I winked at him, but his face fell a bit. Oh no.

"Well, time passes and things are lost and forgotten. When you're dead, you don't really need time. It's a wonder when I can remember what day it is." His voice was melancholy, and his face mirrored it. I guess I really need to be more sensitive with what I say.

"I'm sorry, I've upset you. I didn't mean to... I swear!" I was panicking a bit; worried that Gabe might consider leaving or hating me.

"Just forget about it," he mumbled. The lights dimmed in the House, and he pointed to the stage. "It's starting." I couldn't tell if my eyes were deceiving me or not, but I could swear that he blinked away tears.

All throughout the play, I kept glancing worriedly at him. It got to about halfway through the first act that I eventually gave up and paid attention to what was happening onstage.

After the performance, Gabe was the first to leave the theater. He waited in the car for me, and the drive home was silent. I glanced over at him a couple of times, but he kept his head turned to the window. When we got home, he didn't look at me.

"I'll be upstairs," he mumbled. He trudged up and slammed the door.

A few minutes later, I decided to go upstairs and try to talk to him. After all, he WAS in the room where I sleep. When I entered the room, I saw him sitting in a corner, biting the end of a pen and staring intently at a crossword.

I assumed he wouldn't want to talk to me, so I just stood there awkwardly before going into the bathroom and sitting on the floor. I bit back tears, and I damned myself internally.

All of a sudden, I heard his voice. It was barely above a whisper, but I could faintly hear him say, "Mags?"

I poked my head out the doorway, a little more eagerly than I should have. "Yes, Gabe?"

"Can I talk to you?" He set the pen and crossword down, and I hurried over. I sat across from him and held his hands.

"Of course you can."

He took a deep breath and spoke. "Though I may make some jokes about it from time to time, I hate being the way I am. Dead, but not all the way. I'm jealous of you. And of Trevor, and your mother, and your father. Everyone. You can feel pain, and you can feel real happiness too. You can't take a pan of cookies out of an oven with your bare hands or walk through solid objects, but I'd rather have a burn or get my face smashed in than to be a freak. So do a favor for me, please. Don't waste your life on stupid things. Don't touch drugs or alcohol, and be more careful. I don't want you to be like me." He had a look of fear in his eyes, and I felt awful.

"I figured this was going to come up sooner or later. I'm sorry; I should have stopped cracking jokes as soon as I thought it a possibility you felt this way. But that much I can promise you. I've seen far too many people destroy themselves that way. Besides... now I've promised YOU. And I can't possibly let YOU down." I smiled, and he returned the smile.

"I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you. Understand?" He murmured as he touched my cheek.

I put my hand atop his. "R-Really?"

He nodded and looked at the floor. "You have no clue. You terrify me; I worry about you so much."

"I'm sorry... I don't mean to burden you with concern for me."

He smiled and shook his head. "No! I like to worry about you. It reminds me that there's a part of me that's alive and there's a reason to stay around."

I stared at him, amazed. "And I am that reason?

"Affirmative," he said with a wink. "From the day you walked through the door, I've started smiling a lot more."

"Well, I'm happy to aid you with that. I'll try my best, sir!" I replied with a giggle and a salute.

"You don't need to try. You're just fine on your own." He kissed my cheek, and I grinned.

"Thanks... I appreciate that. You're too sweet."

He just winked at me and said, "I try." From the look on his face, I could tell that something was still bothering him. His eyes were duller and his smile was obviously faked.

"Is that all that was bugging you? You only pull out the crosswords when you're really nervous or upset."

"N-Nope! I'm just fine." He didn't sound convincing at all.

"Are you sure? I thought that was a stammer there... besides; you can't just go dropping the 'I like worrying about you' bomb and expect not to get a LITTLE bit of it back."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Don't freak. I'm _fine_." I leaned away from his harsh tone. He said the word 'fine' like it was his mortal enemy.

"O-Ok…sorry," I mumbled.

He kept his eyes adverted and picked up the crossword and pen again. "It's ok, Maggie."

I didn't want to anger or upset him again, but I was worried. I sat there awkwardly, waiting for something to happen. He started on the crossword again, and then his eyes flicked up at me.

"What?" He asked. His voice seemed dull and almost flat.

I blushed. "Nothing. I can just tell you're still upset, but you don't want to talk to me about it, which I can respect."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Ok. Fine. I'm upset. I'm terrified. I feel like I'd be happier anywhere but here. ESPECIALLY in this house, with YOU."

I was shocked. "Wh-what? I understand the terror... but… have I really irritated you that much?" My voiced dropped down to a whisper.

Gabe's eyes widened. "N-No! It's not that you're annoying me. I just know that we would never work. I love you more than arranging words, cooking, and watching the Phantom of the Opera. That's a lot of love! But...I'm stuck as an eighteen year old. You can grow. I'm no longer living, Mags. You can get married and have kids! And that...bothers me!" He abandoned his spot on the floor and started pacing about the room.

I stayed quiet for a moment, unsure of how to reply. I finally got a bearing on my speech. "...But who says I will?"

Gabe stared at me angrily. "You're not an idiot, Mags! You'll get bored with not having a life! You'll move out of the house. And I can't follow you. I can leave the house, but I have to be back before the end of the night. I'll literally be pulled back to the house, cuz it's where I died. You'll get sick of growing up while I'll be stuck as a guy who just transitioned out of being a minor. You can't have kids. You can't be stuck with someone like me. You just can't!"

I burst. "I know I can't, and it's been bugging the HELL out of me! Because I love YOU!"

He turned toward me with wide eyes. "W-what? You...love me? Why? There's nothing I could offer you. Like I said, you're no idiot. Why don't you just date one of the guys at your school or something?"

I realized what I just let slip, but it's obviously too late to recover it. "I don't know... none of them are you. None of them are intelligent, hilarious, handsome... perfect. But I've tried to subdue these feelings... because I know I can't TRULY be with you!" Hearing my voice crack pathetically, Gabe's expression softened.

"Oh no, please don't cry! I'm sorry. There's only one way we could work, but it's O-U-T of the question. But we'll find a way..." He held me close to him and rubbed my back.

One way that we could work?

My head snapped up. "What's the one way?"

I could tell he was hesitant in telling me, but he answered. "Well...the obvious one. You'd have to die. BUT YOU WILL NOT DIE. YOU WILL DIE YEARS AND YEARS FROM NOW FROM OLD AGE. Do you understand?!" He was panicked, and I was now angry.

"But I want to be with you, Gabe! I'm never going to care for anyone else like I do for you!" Christ, when did I turn into such a Drama Queen? I never had any feeling this strong. I digress.

Gabe shook his head. "I guess I can take back what I said."

"Take back what?"

His head snapped up to look at me; his eyes were flashing. "When I said you weren't an idiot."

"An idiot for wanting to be with you? An idiot for falling in love?"

Oh no. I took one look into his eyes, and I knew that I said something really stupid, yet again.

"AN IDIOT FOR THROWING AWAY SOMETHING I WAS ROBBED OF!" He had angry tears welling up in his eyes. I opened my mouth to reply or apologize, but I couldn't find the words.

"Exactly. That's EXACTLY what I thought." His voice was shaky, and he sat on my bed, arms crossed.

When I finally found my voice, I replied. "...I'm sorry. I know I should be cherishing my life... and I do! I really do... I just... you're... you're..." I was stammering pathetically.

"Don't. Just don't. I have no power over you. But if you end up dead over ME?" He didn't complete his thought; he just shook his head.

"But then we'd have forever..." I whispered.

"That's not the point."

My eyes welled up with tears again. "I know it's not... but I just... I want YOU! I'm never going to love anyone else like this; it's killing me that it can't really happen. No pun intended." I gave a dry, fake laugh, and he put his hands firmly on my shoulders. His touch was cold, and nothing like the way he used to touch me.

"STOP. I'm not going to discuss it with you. Just please. Push it from your head. Let's just be happy, ok?" He kissed my forehead and strolled downstairs. The last thing I could see was his eyes. They were bleak. I had broken his heart by wanting to die for him. This was the first time I'd ever felt this strongly about something. My entire life, I've been numb. Now Gabe comes along, and I feel alive. And then I go and screw it up. I don't want to lose him so early. I curled up on my bed and blinked my tears away. I attempted to convince myself that everything would be ok.


End file.
